


The Boy and the Joker

by jojoandpicnic



Series: PruCan Week 2016 [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cardverse, M/M, prucanweek, prucanweek 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 05:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8151091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojoandpicnic/pseuds/jojoandpicnic
Summary: PruCan Week 2016 - Day 3, Soulmate/Fate
Matthew is wandering around the woods when he comes across a Joker.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I (and my sister) have had for years, but, like, it was originally for a USUK fic. Maybe I’ll actually write it one day. That day is not today. But whatever. Anyway, does this count as a soulmate fic? I mean, technically they are eternally bound to each other. We got the idea of zings from "Hotel Transylvania" and kind of made it our own. You zing when you look in someone’s eyes and give them a kiss (anywhere you want) to make a mark. I think the mark idea came from the manga called "MeruPuri." Something like that. It’s been a few years. Anywho, I hope you like it. Also, who said that it had to be happy? :)

The day was pleasant enough. It was spring, an enjoyable season, though not Matthew’s favorite, but it was good weather. At eleven years old, Matthew liked to think he knew the woods behind his home fairly well. This is where he found himself wandering on this pleasant day. 

Alfred, his twin brother, had decided to wander elsewhere in the same woods. Their mother expected them home by supper, which the boys had promised to uphold. Matthew was pretty sure Alfred wanted to see if he could find his zing again, though Matthew also wondered if Alfred really had a zing, as there was no visible mark and no other boy out here in the woods like Alfred had said. Alfred had also said that his and his zing’s marks weren’t visible because of fairy magic, which was absolute poppycock in Matthew’s opinion. Spades may have been known as the most magical of the four kingdoms, but that didn’t mean all those magical creatures were more than myths and alive and well in Spades.

Besides, if Alfred had truly zinged three years ago, he would have told Mother right away instead of hiding and only confiding in Matthew.

In any case, Matthew currently explored the woods by himself, going deeper and deeper with mindful watch of the sun’s place in the sky. Spadian forests had to be the most beautiful in the world. The way the trees towered over him, the way the birds sang, the way the creeks flowed -- everything about them made them beautiful. Sunlight filtered down from the leaves like glitter, illuminating random patches of greenery. Flowers gently waved in the wind, their lovely smell drifting all around. Little creatures scattered to and fro, making Matthew happy whenever he saw one. Off to the side, he could hear water bubbling as it calmly trickled its way to the nearby lake (the main river was on the other side of the forest and he had only seen it a few times in his wanderings).

He loved the forest. He couldn’t think of any other place on Earth that could match the wondrous scenery that made the forest. The Clubish ice fields may sparkle with charm, the Diamon grassy plains may delight with simplicity, and the Heartian mountains may stand proudly with strength, but they could never compare with the Spadian forest. At least, not in Matthew’s eyes.

And Matthew’s eyes currently saw that he had no idea where he was. He realized with a start that he was in part of the forest he hadn’t explored before without an idea as to how he had gotten there. He stopped where he was and looked around, making a full circle. Trees to his right, left, front, and back. He couldn’t hear the water running and there weren’t many animals around. He was all alone and -

“Lost?” A voice behind him inquired. Quickly, Matthew spun around to see a man floating a foot off the ground. He had extremely white hair, white skin, and - most otherworldly of all - horns and a tail. His clothes were black and plain, but he wore them with regality. 

Matthew swallowed a lump in his throat. “Wh-Who are you,” he stammered, taking a step away.

The man smirked wickedly. “Name’s Gilbert.” He floated closer to Matthew who took more steps back. He tried his best to keep his balance and walk backwards, but he ended up falling on his butt and nearly knocking the air out of him. Gilbert laughed loudly. “Do you think I’m going to eat you or something, kid? Why aren’t you looking at me?” Gilbert ducked down to be level with Matthew’s face, who promptly shut his eyes. “It’s not like I can zing - at least, I don’t think I can. I’m a Joker, kid.” To that, he promptly opened his eyes again in surprise.

Matthew’s violet eyes met alarmingly blood red eyes. He gasped and felt his heartbeat speed up. Gilbert’s eyes twinkled a shimmery rainbow. Something was instantly different, but Matthew couldn’t quite tell  _ what _ was different. Something happened, but he found his brain was a bit slow on the uptake.

Thankfully (or unfortunately), Gilbert seemed to understand. “Look at that. I can zing.”

Time seemed to stop for a moment and then start again, except five times faster. Matthew’s breath hitched and he scrambled away until his back hit a tree. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real. He was dreaming, it was a nightmare, and he would wake up sometime soon. Except for that fact that he knew he wasn’t dreaming and that this was real and that he was already awake. 

His mother had warned him multiple times to never look unzinged people in the eye. The only unzinged person he should ever look in the eye is the person he was positive he wanted to spend the rest of his life with (and Alfred; he couldn’t zing with Alfred because zinging with siblings and other members of the family isn’t possible). Mother said that if he zinged with someone who he didn’t know very well increased the risk of a bad zing. Everyone knew that the bigger mark produced by the zing made a stronger relationship - small marks almost certainly had both parties hating each other, but they were more common than marks that took up a large amount of skin. 

Everyone also knew that everyone only got one zing. One. And Matthew had just used his up on a Joker.

His zing was a semi-mythical, time-controlling, magic-wielding, all-knowing, powerful being of narcissistic intent.

“No need to freak out, kid,” Gilbert said. “I’m still not gonna eat you.” Matthew struggled to find his voice, but he wasn’t a very articulate child to begin with, usually preferring to stay quiet. “We’re zings now. And, if I’m being completely honest, you have just zinged yourself with the awesomest person ever. Congrats.” He smirked and moved himself closer to where Matthew was. Matthew tried harder to press himself farther into the tree. “What’s making you uncomfortable? Is it that fact that we zinged or the fact that I’m older than you?” Gilbert paused for a moment before his face lit up like he had the greatest idea on the planet. His face started to round itself out, his limbs becoming shorter, and he himself becoming smaller until he looked around Matthew’s age. Matthew, for his part, sat there mystified by the display of magic happening right before his eyes. “See? There. Now I’m your age. … Well, not really, I just  _ look _ your age. Does that make you feel better, kid?”

“Matthew,” Matthew blurted out.

“Matthew,” Gilbert repeated with a smirk. “May I give you your mark?”

Matthew felt cold, frozen where he was. “I- I-” 

Without much grandeur, Gilbert quickly leant in and placed a kiss on Matthew’s lips. It lasted for a second, but that was all it took for the magic to spread outwards. It felt warm (warmer than the blush he knew was glowing on his cheeks) as it scrawled across his face, forming the mark into whatever design it felt it should make. The more it formed, the wider Gilbert seemed to smile, to the point where Gilbert’s smile looked barely human. And then it stopped, cooled, and left Matthew wondering what his face now looked like.

They stared at each other for sometime before Gilbert seemed to get bored. “Well?” Matthew stared, not quite comprehending. “Are you going to give me mine?”

Matthew could feel himself blush again. He was shaky and nervous. His mind was racing a mile a minute and his heart was beating faster than that. All he wanted to do at the moment was run home to his mother, but he didn’t know his way out of the forest. He was still lost and the only one who could help him was the Joker in front of him, his zing, who wanted a mark, and was growing more impatient the longer Matthew stared without moving.

Almost of nowhere, he surged forward and missed what he was aiming for (Gilbert’s cheek) and instead pressed a tiny kiss to Gilbert’s right eyelid. Matthew sat back as fastly as he had moved forward and watched the mark paint itself over Gilbert’s face. 

It was fascinating. The mark itself was darker than any Matthew had ever seen before, probably due to the fact that Gilbert was the palest person he had ever met. The magic spread itself in swirls and dots along the eyelid, trailing up a bit onto Gilbert’s forehead and down on his cheek. Except, the more it cemented its shape, the more horrified Matthew became.

A scar. It looked like a scar. It looked like someone had dragged a knife from above Gilbert’s eyebrow, down across his eye, and down to almost his mouth. It was curved, black in color, like a wretched crescent moon, and not even the friendly seeming swirls and circles could ebb how harsh the manifestation of their eternal bond looked. Matthew’s face paled as it dawned on him that  _ he  _ had made that.  _ He  _ had created that ghastly mark from his internal zing magic.

Gilbert raised an eyebrow, confused as to why Matthew was reacting the way he was. “Problem?”

The way the mark moved when Gilbert spoke was too much. Matthew couldn’t stay there any more. He jumped to his feet, which startled Gilbert enough to back away.

“I need to go,” Matthew said quickly, before dashing off in the direction he thought he came from.

He didn’t know where he was running, nor did he care. He noticed the sun had slipped farther down in the sky than he had expected. He only had about an hour or two to find his way home, but he still had no idea how he had found himself where he had been. So he kept running until he heard the creek. It was off to his right and he knew if he followed it, he would return to a part of the forest he did know. He made his way over to it as quickly as possible, not wanting to stay in the forest longer than necessary.

When he finally saw it, he felt like weeping in relief. It was flowing gently, like always, but just enough for him to tell which direction it was flowing in. The water was clear, reflective, still sparkling in the fading sunlight. Matthew couldn’t resist. He timidly approached the water’s edge. His breath was still short from running, so he held it and looked down.

And immediately jumped away from the water with a short shout. He was shaking again. Minutes passed as he tried to calm himself down - his breath evened out, his heart stopped pounding, and his thoughts tried to make sense of themselves. Ultimately, he concluded that his quick look, with the water running like it was, distorted what he saw just enough for him to be scared. So he looked again.

This time, he didn’t pull away like he wanted to. He stared.

His hair was a mess with leaves and twigs adorning his wild curls. His face was pale, his violet eyes were wide with fright. His mouth - the mark -

The magic had spread out across his lips and onto his cheeks. The mark made it hard to tell where his lips were, or if he had any at all. He knew he was frowning, but he couldn’t  _ see _ it. All he could see was the mark. The mark was darker than his skin tone, but definitely not as dark as Gilbert’s had been, and had the same friendly swirls and dots like every other mark out there. They way they were constructed, the shapes that they made, however, was sinister. Matthew had his own crescent moon, stretched from one cheek to the other, in a deranged Joker’s smile. Tears welled in his eyes - he didn’t look like  _ him _ any more. He looked evil, like a demon hiding in the woods, eternally grinning.

He took a step back. Then another. And another. And another until he was running again. He could feel the tears on his cheeks and he wiped them off as best as he could, but they were making it increasingly hard for him to see where he was going. It didn’t help that the sun was sinking below the trees.

It didn’t take him much longer to trip on a tree root. His hands got scratched up, as well as his knees, but he couldn’t seem to care. He curled up into a ball and cried well past sunset. He didn’t move until he heard his brother and mother calling for him, and sat up to see their lanterns moving closer.

When his mother saw him, she screamed. 

That day was the worst in his life.


End file.
